Addiction
by MayfairFuture
Summary: Addiction is something you don't play with. Especially with a certain blonde. If you can get addicted to drugs, why can't I get addicted to her? And no one will stop it. No one. Companionship to Obsession. Ashley POV.
1. Chapter 1

Addiction

**I know after a year of disappearing, all of you wanted a chapter in Obsession. Remember how almost everyone begged for an Ashely POV in Obsession and I kept gently telling everyone no in personal messages? Well, this was the reason. I planned a sequel/companionship to Obsession with Ashely's POV and her history. This is my apology.**

**A lot has happened in a year. Long story short, I started my career with a new demanding job plus some issues with a place to live, twice. And well, life took over with responsibilities and 16-hr days and unfortunately, writing took a backseat. I'm trying my hardest to find a balance and maybe now this will stick.**

**My sincerest apologies. I will try my hardest to update Obsession; in fact, I'm going to re-read the last chapter and start on it now.**

**MF**

_Prologue - Numbness is a Beautiful Thing_

Do you know what it's like to be high? It's like the movies, right? The thumping beats in the background, the awe-like big eyes, the blur of lights, and most importantly, at the beginning, you're aware but as time flies, you're just in the flow. Everything is fast-forward and you wake up with a hangover and blank slate of black that's supposed to be your short-term memories of the hours before. There's the sigh and the pain your body is putting you through for what you did to it last night. There's the wondering and the self-loathing bitch routine or just the not giving a fuck. Then life moves on and it's normal again.

It's nothing like the movies.

The movies got it somewhat right. In the beginning, on a drug-binge, it is the awe-inspiring big eyes. Everything is heightened. And you feel; you feel a multitude of things. The air, the music, the breath, whatever. You feel. But what the movies got wrong is the very fact that you're aware of what you're doing. I remember everything I do when I'm snorting that Snow White powder. The thing I'm feeling though, eternally, is numbness.

And that's the beauty of getting high.

You know exactly what you're doing and why you're doing it, but that numbness makes it okay. That numbness makes you feel the most. That numbness makes you the most honest thing in that exact moment.

As you can see, I think numbness is a beautiful thing. That's why I get high. I can be myself and do stupid shit, and it's _me_. It's who I am. These horrible mistakes I'm making? I know. The numbness makes it real and it allows me to feel. I pretend when I'm sober. I pretend I'm okay and that my life is perfect. But when I'm high, my true colors brightly show, and I just don't give a fuck.

I have numbness to thank for that.

"Ashley!"

My musing is over as the blond screams in my ear just so I could hear her husky slur over the pounding of the club bass. Ashley Benson. She just landed a coveted role in her career but I really don't care or give a fuck. She knows how to party and best, knows how to snort coke off my body that gets me in the mood to fuck. That's honestly all I care about.

"You sure about this?" She screams again.

Her hot breath gives me shivers and my flat stomach reacts the right way. My hazy eyes follow as the long white line that starts at my clavicle and ends at my waist line move up then down like a sexy roller coaster bump. None of powder deters from that perfect line. Goddamn, she lined that perfect. I can't anticipate any longer so I give her my famous smoldering look.

What I like most about Ashley is that she doesn't waste time. She immediately gets the clues and goes right for what I want from her. She leans in for the kiss and it's sloppy because I'm fucked up. The alcohol makes my stomach a little queasy but the lightness I feel from the copious amounts I drank in the last two hours does it's job. The coke counteracts any nausea that's building from the too much alcohol. Again, the numbness makes everything better. And so beautiful.

Ashley moans and I know she doesn't mind the kiss is sloppy. She's fucked up, too. So it shouldn't matter as long as her tongue ends up licking my slit. But I still deeply kiss her and as her mouth opens for a breather, my teeth catch her bottom lip and I bite. I don't let go and add more pressure until she hisses.

Because pain is another emotion.

It's a reminder; a reminder I don't need about my dead baby that my body couldn't carry but a reminder that everything else around me is real. Sometimes I get lost in the numbness and it's almost like a dream, although I'm aware this is truly happening. I'm about to get fucked by a "young hollywood" actress in Echo, a popular club hotspot for L.A.'s celebrity culture and known drug party locale. There's paparazzi outside, probably inside now just waiting for the troublemaker daughter of a rock legend to start another juicy scandal. And they're gonna get one. It all seems a little too dream-like. It's like something I would read in those trash rags. That's why sometimes I need to cause a little pain to make sure it's really happening.

"Damn girl," Ashley practically groans out.

I'm done with her talking.

"I want you to snort the coke," I say lowly against her cheek. "Snort all of it in one shot and fuck me for all the world to see."

I end my request with a long, almost animalistic, lick up the length of her cheek. And because I'm a biter, I nip her earlobe.

I hear her groan and her voice is a little muffled as I'm assuming she demands a straw from someone nearby. I'm not for sure what she does because my eyes are already closed and I adjust my shoulders against the plush furniture. A relaxing breath escapes me and I can't wait to get fucked.

It's the last relaxing thought I have tonight.

*****MF******

Everything else is a blur which really fucks up my philosophy of getting high. Yes, I remember everything. I remember every emotion that suddenly floods, the actions, the chain-reactions, and the most fucking ironic thing ever: it just happens to rain that night in L.A.

Rain in L.A. is like bad karma. Earthquakes, fine. No biggie. No one fucking flinches on an earthquake. It rains in L.A. and it's like the omen. It never happens so when it does, something bad happens. And something did.

If only I knew how much getting high could affect everyone around me.

I remember in the middle of Ashley snorting the coke off me, I hear commotion. My smear in my vision kind of recognizes the haziness of Dante's silhouette and his soft hands reaching for my forearms. I remember frowning because Dante never interrupts my partying.

Sure he runs a shady business but he always a had a gentle gaze for me. In a way, he looks out for me. There's always a sober driver for me at 6:00 a.m. curtesy of him. When I'm too fucked and can't exactly defend myself, the sleazy guys who try to take advantage mysteriously disappear and it's Dante somewhere in a corner who slightly bends his chin down when we make eye contact. He watches out for me, which is more than what I can say for some people.

I remember Dante's mouth moving but I can't hear words because the moment he reached for me, Ashley screams. Then multiple people are yelling, one of them, my father. The back of Ashley's hair is in his vice-like grip and she's defenseless as her arms move back to his arm holding her. He turns them around and unceremoniously shoves her away from me. Then Dante is shoved by him and it's his rough hands on my forearms now. He squeezes but he's not rough but his voice says different. I don't bother hearing his tirade to the group of people around us. I'm focused on my screaming at him.

Then there was the rain pounding on my skin. I remember the shock of it all. The coldness almost makes me sober and I realize why I don't like the rain. There's more yelling, bright white lights that leave dazzling white spots in front of me and I'm temporarily dazed. It stops my fighting against my dad's grip long enough for him to shove me in the passenger side of his SUV. There's more yelling; they're like stupid questions and lights keep going off. And for a brief second, I start to maybe like the white spots in front of me then the white stuff flowing in my blood stream. I'm still getting the effective numbness even if my dad is a major buzzkill.

There's honking, a lot of honking and more yelling. Then it's just me and my dad. The yelling never stopped and I never noticed the heavy raindrops practically giving a rhythmic _doosh _on the windshield or the power of the windshield wipers desperately trying to make a clear path of vision. All I'm focused on is the fact my father ruined my night and I was going to make him pay for it.

We're both screaming at each other and I'm surprised I'm able to string a coherent thought full of cuss words without hesitating or using filler words. He's equally as eloquent as I am in his arguments. We're going back and forth and I'm not paying attention to how fast the car is going or the fact that it fogged up in the car. I'm not even noticing the white lights are back. They're against my profile and I see it my peripheral but what's more important was how much I hated my father at this moment.

"You're 15!" He would scream.

"I don't give a fuck!" I would scream back. "Since when did you care I've been doing this? The past ten months you were on tour. You sure as fucking hell did care then!"

"I've always cared!"

Back and forth we go. I accuse his lack of concern due to his career. He would counter back that he did stupid things but he is a parent and he is going to start acting like one. This time things are different. He is going to be there. I said it was a load of shit.

"I'm your father, Ashley!" He screamed over me. "Whether you like it or not, I am here. I'm going to be here for you. Always. And we're starting with getting you help. I love you and I'm going to be here for now on."

It is the last thing he says before the wheel violently turns and he tries to overpower it. There's the screech of tires against wet pavement and we're gliding. There's metal crunching and glass breaking all over my skin and the prickles I usually feel aren't the same and sure as hell is not as welcomed. There's screaming and I remember my heart spiking because for once in my high, I felt fear instead of numbness. I remember something slicing my back and the anguished yelp that escapes my mouth, following by a bone somewhere below me cracking. The taste of blood followed by the lurking black that appears on and off in my vision.

There's a horn honking but it's distant. Everything stops but the one thing that's constant was the last thing I screamed at my father before all this happened.

It was like a loop and my numbness was starting to fade. I didn't like it at all; my numbness starting to fade…

I want it back, but what I want most of all, is to erase what I said.

"I hate you!"

End of Prologue.


	2. Chapter 2

Addiction

**Note: Fast-forward roughly two years later and the introduction to some key people in Ashley's life.**

**Street names of drugs:**

**Snow White - Cocaine**

**Juice - ****Dilaudid****, which is a type of pain pill.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**MF**

Ch. 1 - Recovering Addict

_You're always going to be an addict; there's no cure for that. There's a difference between an addict and a recovering addict. And no matter how much you want to think you're aren't an addict after rehab, you are. You will always be an addict. You will always be an addict. Say it again: __**You will always be an addict.**_

_What's the difference?_

_The difference is that a recovering addict struggles_.

You gotta love how honest rehab is. Granted, the last rehabilitation facility wasn't this honest which is probably why I never took it seriously. I mean, I got clean for cocaine but was still under the influence of prescription pills. When I look back, who's really fucking stupid in the situation. At least in this place they were real from the get-go; I think I really needed to hear I was going to be an addict for the rest of life. It gave me a sense of security, I guess. It's hard to explain; I don't need false promises or exaggerated hopes and dreams.

I needed to be told the truth and maybe that's why the second time around I took it seriously. Forget the fact my father died because of me and the judge wasn't too kind when he found out I was under the influence when I flipped that car three times on the 405. Or that I seriously scared my mom and sister; I never seen my mother cry and she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and wouldn't let go of her death grip once I got out of surgery. The image in my mind of my only family crying because they thought they lost me still sent shivers down my spine. My family has never been one for affection. I guess it comes with the territory when your father was a rock legend and your mom cared about her Botox more and never knew what was going on with her daughter and the child that had nothing to do with her blood-kin so she barely tolerated her. That description was of my half-sister Kyla, by the way.

I deeply roll my eyes and hold my breath until I feel light-headed. I'm going through it again; the withdrawal. I've had a couple before but this seems to be the one where I fall off the wagon once again.

They were honest about this part, too. This is why you'll always be an addict, they said. Life gets to you like they're the devil. Life tempts you back into your addiction. Life is a pretty face that will fuck you over and you thought they were your best friend. You're gonna struggle and there's no amount of therapy or physical detox that will prepare you for it. The stress will get to you and you'll wonder why you ever gave up your addiction because anything is better than the real problems that life confronts you with all the time.

It's one of those days where everything just gets to me. There's another rumor about me at this stupid school. It's nothing new since it's something I almost begged for when I was messing up. Back then, coke made every decision easy. All I had to do was get high and whatever decision I made had no consequence in my mind. I could start every single rumor and wouldn't give a shit because it wasn't affecting me directly. I was too high to care. This was the freedom coke gave me; a blank canvass of emotion and feeling. I could literally do anything and not care. Normally, this rumor wouldn't bother me; like who cares if I fucked a male and woman teacher within two days a part. So what I kind of fueled it when I noticed said teachers check me out and all I did was smirk. I mean, the rumors would have merit if I wasn't failing both their classes, then maybe I wouldn't be so upset.

Forget the fact I was in rehab for the last year; that wasn't rumor-material here in King High. All these assholes care about is sex and apparently whether or not if I'm gay or straight. Really? I can't be bi? Or how about the simple fact that it doesn't matter what my sexual orientation is because none of that really matters? Ugh, this is why I loved drugs so much. I didn't have to deal with this bullshit or the simple fact that every turn I make, there's Kyla and Aiden looking so happy in love.

Like right now. We're on break before classes. Not the typical five minutes to change books and go to the next class, but an actual 15-minute break to stretch, sunbathe, smoke, or hell, even skip school, which I'm seriously about to do and score Snow White and Juice. I'm in one of these hallways crouched against a wall and my head is between my legs and my lips are parched. I kept licking them every two seconds in my previous class and I even though I know I'm going through one of these physical withdrawals, it fucking doesn't help when you silently tell yourself over and over again you're going to be okay. I just want the dryness to stop and I want every fucking stressor of this day to disappear.

I need to disappear in just a drug haze because I remember what that's like every time I close my eyes. How everything was so simple and care-free and there's no words or thoughts or actions. There's just the numbness of a high. A white vision comes when I press the balls of my hands into my eyelids and I remember how it used to be. Nobody cared about me while I was high and I was free to do anything and everything with no feeling. I didn't have to stress about school or court dates or a probation officer. Hell, when I was high, my father was on the road chasing his glory days and my mom was making her face stone and I could do whatever because they were too busy with their lives. I want that life back.

At least my father wouldn't be dead and my mom wouldn't be looking at me with sympathetic eyes. And Kyla… well, it's hard which Kyla I prefer: the one when I was high or the one now. When I was high, Kyla did her thing. She was there for support but at an arm's length because she wasn't miss perfect and she knew what it was like to act out once you lose someone. She wasn't there to tell me I was badly fucking up and consistently but a phone call, and she was there. And now that I'm sober, Kyla is there presently and more active and I do need that support system more than I'm willing to admit out loud but she comes with a total package of Aiden. She's always doting and making sure I'm taking my controlled amount of pain pills when the tightness in my lower back gets to be too much. We talk, all the time now and she's the most encouraging person I have right now but I can't stand her when Aiden's around.

It's not like I hate Aiden for dating my sister. And I'm not in love with him anymore. As harsh as it sounds, my love for him died when our baby did. When I miscarried, I was deeply depressed and Aiden just couldn't handle it so he left, which looking back, I understand and don't resent him for it. In fact, after the car accident that put my father in the coma, he was only one who came by and stayed that was outside of family. He's someone I will always care for, no matter how our lives end up. We just weren't meant to be but apparently he and Kyla were.

They got close during my recovery and at first Kyla was so vehemently against doing anything further with him. It wasn't supposed to be like that, and I felt petulant in the beginning. Bonding was something that was supposed to be the three of us and not them falling in love as I lay in a hospital bed ridden with guilt and pain and withdrawals. At first, I was so happy her loyalty lied with me but I could see how much it hurt her not to follow the "intense chemistry" they have. My entire life until this point was based off selfish reasons and I decided if I was going to commit to a pointed lifestyle change, the selfishness was going to be the first thing to work on getting better. So I gave my permission.

What a big fuck you to me.

I'm honestly happy for them, but I don't need their happiness rubbed in my struggles. How could they be so happy at 17 and here I am with a dead child already and a dead father. Why couldn't I have the happiness but I'm with this gloom? So I don't really communicate with Kyla when Aiden's around. Unfortunately, that's all the time nowadays.

The white vision is starting to turn black with bright spots and I almost lose my balance due to the lightness my head is currently experiencing. I exhale and in one quick motion, push myself straight up. I lean against the brick wall because the rapid movement cause a moment of nausea and I need to tell myself again that I'm going to be okay; that all this normal even though I'm starting to get hella annoyed with myself. I'm this close to give up this charade and that all of the positive reinforcements I'm trying to say as a mantra is complete bullshit. I'm starting to get stomach pains now and I hug my midsection and growl in frustration.

I push myself off the wall and turn to my right, not exactly knowing where I'm going or where the hell I am but I just need a common point and I can navigate from here to get out of this hellhole and find the nearest drug dealer. My weak argument is still listing in my head and as I turn the corner I see Kyla in Aiden's lap from afar but I can still read her lips and know she's giggling. Subconsciously, I bite the inside of my cheek.

Fuck this shit.

I start a trot in the opposite direction and hoping I'm fast enough that Kyla doesn't notice me. The few times I almost fell off the wagon, thankfully, Kyla has been there to stop me. She's my voice of reason which is why I could never decide which version of Kyla I like more. I have my days, but the bottom line is that she will always stop me from doing something stupid. And I am about to do something stupid and I'm don't care anymore. I'm done trying to deal with the stress and lead a clean life. I'm done thinking and I'm done feeling. I'm a fuck-up and will always fuck up.

I'm an attention whore after all.

I lick my lips again and I'm seriously irritated at the motion. Even more validation that I'm just going to be an addict for the rest of my life, just like rehab said. I just wasn't going to be different anymore and be a recovering addict. I'm in a light jog now as I maneuver around people but also try to be discreet so none of the authoritative figures notice I'm about to sneak off campus. I should be thinking about my escape route, however a last attempt to stop myself from shooting up tries to reason with me.

Rehab talked a lot about a hobby to help with the temptation. Something that is physically and mentally active that helps you focus on something that's not what messed up your life in the first place. Put all your focus and energy into this one hobby and it helps.

Too bad my "hobbies" included producing music and fucking women. I mean, it's really not too bad but those two things that seem to get any type of focus out of me hasn't been working as of late. I used to love producing music. There was something about creating something and others connecting to that. In a sense, it was a step of validation that I'm doing something right. Granted, it wasn't rock music, but I'm sure my father would have been proud of mixes I've created. I was actually considering it a career path and sending demos out before everything went to shit. I got pregnant and lost the baby. Subsequently, I not only lost a child but a boyfriend and nobody was there.

Except Snow White. Snow White was there for me. And a woman to fuck after Aiden left which really opened a whole new world that just needed to be explored. It wasn't a love-opening experience like my first time with Aiden was like, but it was pretty up there. It was something I wanted to keep doing but not with the same woman.

Music is just too painful right now to use as a distraction and the slew of women now used to do the trick but now it seems like I'm missing some sort of substance. It's not working every time I get the urge to go back. Maybe I'm associating the women with the drugs because it used to be more pleasurable when I wasn't in the right mind-frame but all I do now is think. I'm comparing and it's fucking up my life that I can't even use sex as a distraction now.

I can hit up this girl I met on Facebook for a fuck to stop me, I weakly thought but I'm so not into it. The temptation is hitting right now, in the right way that's so sickeningly sweet that rebuffs any weak argument I come with that this is all a bad idea. I sigh as I keep speed-walking.

I've come so far.

_For life to fuck you over? People are happy around you and you're suffering. This is why you were on drugs; so you didn't have to feel._

This would devastate my family. I've already failed them enough.

_And they haven't failed you? Where is Kyla right now?_

My father's death was my wake-up call. I won't fail him.

_He's fucking dead! Because of you, might I add. Just let go. All this stress? It can be avoided. Remember how happy you were with not feeling. Remember how things weren't complicated when you were using? Remember how people left you alone? Don't you want that? You're already an addict._

_You're already an addict._

_You're already an addict._

And I'm sold. I'm an addict and I'm going to do what addicts do.

I turn another corner and by natural order, I inhale deep and I abruptly stop. It's like I'm smelling fresh strawberries and I know for a fact that the nearest farmer's market is 30 miles away and strawberries can't carry a smell that intoxicatingly sweet that far. I turn my head to my right and I know immediately who that smell that belongs to and I'm entranced.

The blonde hair literally shines in the sunlight but it's her profile that makes every argument in my head that getting high is a great idea, leave. Like, literally a whoosh, and everything I've thought in the last 30 seconds is completely eradicated. Her face has that golden tan that's _so_ standard in SoCal but the slight grimace around her mouth gravitates me. She's lost for sure as a confused look crosses her features but she tries to hide it every time she makes eye contact with someone. Instead, a friendly smile places firm on her mouth and she tries to explain her predicament to anyone who looks at her but none of them find her nearly interesting like I do; hell, I'm completely enthralled. I stay as I watch her try to get someone's attention, her facial expressions tacked with this stubborn hold as she keeps her smile and proceeds to ask the next person who looks at her.

Thankfully, the next person is Chelsea and I know she's in good hands. Chelsea is someone I've had the casual acquaintance since elementary school but I know she's one of the good ones. She just prefers the quiet, artistic side as I tended to veer towards the wild child and popularity once we started high school. But I know Chelsea is sweet and kind-hearted enough to stop and help this blonde and I smile at the little fact when that's exactly what she does and they share a laugh.

Holy shit, the way she laughs. It's mesmerizing. And I'm fucking sold. This girl; there's something like a gravitational pull and I know right there as I scan her face then the rest of her body that's she's someone special and I need in my life. I'm sure she's better than Snow White and Juice combined.

I lick my lips.

I think I just found my new addiction.

**End of Ch.1**

**I don't think Spencer will ever know how far her influences reach. lol**

**Please review if you'd like.**

**MF**


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